Leon watched with growing disbelief as people continued streaming out of the dungeon gate. The blue portal rippled with each ergence, figures stumbling or walking with exhausted determination into the fading sunlight of the outside world.
This doesn’t make sense, he thought, his analytical mind struggling to reconcile what he was seeing with his expectations. I was almost certain that either they’d all be dead or only a handful would survive out of pure luck.
Yet the numbers kept climbing. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. The count passed fifty, and still more erged.
The condition they were in wasn’t good—far from it. Signs of malnutrition were evident in their gaunt faces and the way their clothes hung loose on fras that had clearly lost significant weight. Injuries marked many of them: bandaged limbs, healing wounds, scars that looked fresh and angry against pale skin. So limped, others were supported by their companions, and a few looked like they were standing through sheer willpower alone.
But they were alive. Against all odds, they had survived.
Leon kept watching, his count continuing chanically even as his mind raced with questions. How? How did so many survive? What happened in there?
Seraphine materialized beside him, having withdrawn from the dinsional space the mont she detected the activity. Her athyst eyes—now flecked with white and purple lightning from her transformation—widened as she took in the scene.
The count has crossed one hundred. Ninety-five. Ninety-seven. Ninety-nine.
Then the dungeon portal behind them finally collapsed, the blue energy imploding inward with a sound like reality sighing in relief. The gateway vanished completely, leaving only empty air where it had stood.
These are all the people that survived, Leon realized, his ntal count settling at exactly one hundred twelve.
He and Seraphine turned to look at each other simultaneously, surprise mirrored in both their expressions.
One hundred twelve out of one hundred and forty, Leon thought. More than half survived. That’s... unprecedented for them being stuck for so long. What the hell happened in there?
But there was sothing else that surprised Leon even more than the survival rate.
The last person to exit the dungeon caught his full attention.
A girl erged, her white-grey hair catching the light in a way that made it shimr like fresh snow. Blue eyes scanned the surroundings with sharp intelligence despite obvious exhaustion. Leon might have seen her before during his brief interactions with the refugees, but he couldn’t recall any specific details about her—she hadn’t stood out among the masses.
But she certainly stood out now.
The girl was sitting astride a giant red wolf, its fur the color of fresh blood and flas. The beast was massive—easily the size of a large horse—with muscles that rippled beneath its coat and eyes that glowed with predatory intelligence. Its paws were the size of dinner plates, tipped with claws that could probably tear through steel.
A tad beast from the dungeon, Leon noted with interest. Impressive.
This is the first ti I have seen sothing like this in this world.
He did call the encounter with the eagle, keeping an eye on them; however, that encounter was brief and not solid like this.
But there was more. Walking beside the red wolf, matching its pace with graceful, almost floating steps, was another creature entirely.
Leon’s breath caught.
That... that can’t be called a beast, he thought, transfixed by what he was seeing. It’s too beautiful.
The creature’s body resembled a slender, deer-like form about the size of a large horse. Every inch of it was covered in silvery-white fur that seed to shimr with its own internal light, as if moonbeams had been woven into physical form. The fur looked impossibly soft, catching and reflecting light in ways that made the creature appear almost ethereal.
But it was the antlers that truly commanded attention. Crystalline structures rose from its head like sculpted ice—not the rough, organic appearance of normal antlers, but perfect, faceted formations that refracted light into countless tiny rainbows. Each branch split and curved with mathematical precision, creating a crown of frozen beauty that looked like it belonged in a palace of winter gods rather than on a living creature.
The beast moved with impossible grace, its hooves barely seeming to touch the ground. There was sothing otherworldly about it, sothing that spoke of magic and mystery far beyond what should exist in a lower domain dungeon.
No one has to tell anything, Leon thought with absolute certainty. I just know that thing is not from the dungeon.
His mind raced with possibilities. Had it sohow wandered in from outside? Been summoned? Created through so unknown magic? The dinsional properties of dungeons were complex, but they didn’t just spontaneously generate creatures like this.
Leon activated his system interface, wanting to analyze the beautiful beast and understand what he was looking at. The familiar golden transparent screen materialized before his eyes, system text beginning to populate with information about the crystalline-antlered creature.
But he didn’t get a chance to read it.
The mont the system screen appeared, the beautiful beast’s head snapped toward Leon with startling precision. Those luminous eyes—the color of winter sky at dawn—locked onto him with an intelligence that was unmistakably sentient.
A low growl emanated from the creature’s throat.
The sound was lodic despite being a warning—like wind chis made of ice, beautiful but carrying an unmistakable edge of danger. The crystalline antlers seed to glow slightly brighter, catching and refracting light with increased intensity.
But the growl wasn’t too aggressive. There was restraint in it, calculation. The beast wasn’t attacking or preparing to attack. It was... a warning. Acknowledging his presence. Making its own presence known in return.
It understands, Leon realized with fascination. It knows what I was doing. And it’s telling it sees too. It understands the consequences of being too aggressive. Or maybe... it can sense my strength?
The creature’s posture was alert but not hostile. Its muscles were tense but not bunched for a spring. The growl faded to silence, but those intelligent eyes never left Leon’s face, studying him with the sa intensity he’d been directing at it.
It was a standoff of sorts—two beings of power acknowledging each other across the distance, each taking the asure of the other.
The girl with white-grey hair sitting on the red wolf seed oblivious to the silent exchange, too exhausted to notice the subtle tension crackling in the air between her strange companion and the silver-haired man watching from a distance.
Leon’s hand had instinctively moved closer to where his weapons would materialize if needed, but he made no overtly threatening gesture. Interesting. Very interesting. What are you, beautiful creature? And how did you end up here?
The crystalline beast continued to stare, its expression inscrutable, those winter-dawn eyes holding secrets Leon desperately wanted to uncover.
User Comments
0 comments from readers